MELISSA WORKED IN THE garden feverishly, but she couldn’t find the peace she sought. All she saw was Seth’s stricken face when she’d turned him down.
Married? Was he out of his mind?
Daffodils were starting to bloom. The earth was becoming workable enough to get a head start on the weeding and think about the new growing season.
He’d said he was falling in love with her. Convenient. What if he stopped falling before he got there?
She wasn’t any clearer about her feelings than Seth was. There was so much baggage between them they could open a luggage store. Stephen was still missing and presumed to be in the Czech Republic. She and the kids hadn’t received so much as a postcard. More than the money, she wanted some kind of closure. And as for Seth, he was trying so hard to make everything right, for the twins, for her and Matthew and Alice.
And yet, there was undeniably something good happening. It hovered in the air like an early hint of spring when they said good morning. It teased them with longing when they said good night and their eyes met over the noisy confusion of the four kids all talking at once in the entrance hall.
Was that something love?
Or was it loneliness? Need? Sexual desire rising up like the new shoots in her garden?
She plopped down in the damp earth, the smell of rich dirt and growing things all around her. Idly, she watched a disturbed worm upend itself and burrow back down.
Her anger had finally dissipated, and she realized his proposal hadn’t been the clumsy act of charity she’d first thought. But it wasn’t a sincere proposal from the bottom of his heart, either. His eyes had registered shock when he’d spouted out the words. No. He hadn’t planned to ask her to marry him. It had come from somewhere deeper inside himself.
Maybe he did love her. She didn’t know and neither did Seth. She was no surer of her own feelings. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wouldn’t make another mistake.
The trouble was that she definitely had feelings for him. A lot of them purely carnal. The whole sex thing shimmered and teased, promising her a lush paradise in the middle of her desert of a love life. What if it turned out to be a mirage?
If only they loved each other, marriage would be the perfect answer. Still, even if Seth didn’t love her, he’d become her closest friend. And she’d hurt him.
She was going to have to apologize.
“IS SOMETHING WRONG with the phone, Mom?” Matthew asked, hunched on the floor sorting his new collection of baseball cards.
“No.”
“Then why do you keep picking it up and putting it down?”
A glib answer came to mind, but she suppressed it. “I have to apologize to Seth. I said something that hurt his feelings. But I’m having a hard time working up the nerve.”
Her son nodded wisely. “That’s like when my teacher made me tell Josh I was sorry for making his lip bleed. He was real mad—I thought he might hit me. But after I said sorry, it was okay. And I felt better.”
“You made Josh’s lip bleed?” Her voice started to rise.
“Only by accident. Not on purpose.”
“Oh, my gosh. I should call his mother. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her son put on an expression she’d seen on Seth’s face a hundred times. “It’s a guy thing, Mom. Forget it.”
Since Seth had taken an interest in Matthew’s baseball career, there was a whole new attitude coming from her son. One she didn’t always approve of. “And how did this ‘guy thing’ happen exactly?”
“I was showing Josh how to steal a base by sliding in on your stomach—’cept he hit a rock.”
“A rock? Your school field is grass.”
“The big kids were using it. So we made our own diamond.”
“And the rock?”
“Was third base.”
“I see.”
“That’s why the teacher made me say sorry. Then I didn’t feel so bad. You should phone Seth, Mom. You’ll feel better.”
She hugged him to her. “Sometimes you’re grown-up smart.” She turned back to the phone and punched in Seth’s number, restraining herself from hanging up like a coward. After an eternity of ringing, while she cleared her throat and swallowed about six times, Seth’s answering service picked up.
How do you apologize to a machine? she wondered helplessly as the silence stretched. “Seth, it’s Melissa,” she spat out at last. “I wanted to, um, apologize for earlier. I think I was abrupt. I—you surprised the heck out of me.” Another pause. He was probably standing right there, listening to her make a total fool of herself. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to stay for dinner?”
She pictured him, a dark, angry presence, too mad to pick up the phone. Why wouldn’t he at least let her tell him in person how sorry she was? “I’m not sure what we’re having. I was thinking maybe pot roast…” Now she was babbling, making things even worse. “With mashed potatoes. Maybe green beans.” Another pause. “I’m sorry, Seth. And thank you.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she replaced the receiver.
“Well, Mom, do you feel better?” Matthew’s imitation-adult voice brought a smile to her lips.
“Yep. I feel better. Thanks for the good advice.”
He swelled with pride before her eyes, picking up his cards and putting them away before she got around to reminding him to get ready for bed.
The man who dropped the twins off the next morning was the same man she’d imagined standing by the phone refusing to speak to her the night before. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Spoke curtly and didn’t even set foot in her house.
“Did you get my message?” she finally asked him, knowing damn well he had.
“Yes,” he said to the door frame.
“Can you come for dinner?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.” Then he was gone.
“What’s the matter with Daddy?”
“He’s mad at me.”
“Wow. He never gets that mad at us.” Well, that was comforting.
All day she waited for his call.
She received a curt message from him at three o’clock. He’d known darn well she would be picking the kids up from school then and wouldn’t be home. Her heart sank. He wouldn’t even talk to her. Surprise widened her eyes when she finished listening to the message. She had to rewind and listen to it again, to be sure she’d heard right.
He’d accepted her invitation. And a lovely evening they were going to have with him glowering, refusing even to glance her way. She’d be the one getting gastric trouble next.
Even though she felt gloomy and a little nervous, or maybe because of it, she got Matthew and the twins to help her drag the kitchen table into the dining room and laid the table with linen.
The girls cut daffodils and a few early irises from the garden and made a centerpiece for the table. Matthew sliced the bread, Alice globbed butter on it. And Melissa put her heart and soul into a pot roast and salad that said, “I’m sorry.”
He arrived punctually at five-thirty. After dithering all afternoon about what to wear, Melissa opted for something casual. She didn’t want him to repeat his ridiculous proposal. She wanted to get back to the warm and promising friendship they’d had.
Now, as she walked to the door, she wished she’d at least put on a skirt. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be looking at her anyway, she remembered.
She opened the door and was taken by surprise. He was looking straight at her, big and formidable, the light of war in his eyes. He crossed the threshold. “Where are the kids?”
“In the kitchen.”
Before she could move, he grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her. Not tenderly at all, like she was used to, but roughly. If frustration had a flavor, she tasted it on his lips and tongue.
The door was still open, for goodness’ sake. Anyone could walk by. As Seth showed no signs of letting go of her, she relaxed into his kiss, allowing herself to enjoy the moment and the strange excitement of his anger channeled into passion.
“We can’t go on like this,” he said, when he finally lifted his head.
Her heart was pounding and she was having trouble drawing breath. To diffuse the potent emotions swirling around them, she tried for a little light humor. “No, we can’t.” She reached past him and shut the door. “The neighbors will get ideas.”
But he refused to be sidetracked. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” The thought of the CEO of her bank mooning over her was the sweetest balm to her ego.
He cracked a small smile. “Today, in our executive meeting, I called Mitzi Youngall, our marketing director, Melissa. I’ve known the woman for six years.”
“You did? Cool.”
“Mitzi didn’t think so.”
Seth flattering her was infinitely better than Seth mad at her. Maybe they could get their friendship back, after all. “Anything else?” She let her fingers trail through his dark hair, intimately aware of the weight and warmth of his hands resting lightly on her hip bones.
“Well, since you’re fishing for compliments, let’s see… Oh, yeah… I dreamed about you last night.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh.” He whispered the words against her mouth. “It was a very erotic dream.”
Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted as she waited for him to kiss her again, deep and hard. Instead, she felt his lips trail up her cheek to nibble on her ear lobe, then his tongue ran round the circumference of her ear before be whispered, “I have an idea.”
She could hardly concentrate on the words for the delicious shivers coursing through her body as his warm breath teased the wet flesh. “What?”
“Let’s make my dream a reality.”
“But where…I mean—”
“I was an idiot. I tried to rush you. I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. It was lovely of you to propose, and I was rude and ungracious.”
“I don’t think either of us can think straight until we get some time alone. I’ve booked us into a resort for next weekend. For a very dirty weekend.”
“You have?” Excitement and nerves warred within her. “What about the kids?”
“I’ve booked a babysitting agency that was recommended by a good friend. They’ll send someone over for you to interview. And Janice said she’d check in on the kids.”
“Janice? You told Janice?”
“Sure. You know what she said?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“She said it’s about time. She thinks it’s a great idea.”
“But, but…” She wished he’d get back a few feet so she could think. “I’m not marrying you.”
“So you said. Maybe a dirty weekend will change your mind.”
“Egotist.” She was half-laughing, and totally tempted.
He grinned. “What this relationship needs is some good, healthy sex. No strings attached.” He’d come up with the perfect way for them to explore the attraction between them without any obligations. On either side, she realized grimly. It had been a long time since she’d had sex. And much longer since she’d thought of it as “good” or “healthy.” If she was a total disappointment, he could walk away.
“What if it…ah…doesn’t work out?”
His mouth opened, and she waited for some sassy answer, but instead he said, “Then we’ll know. And we can go back to being friends.”
Friends. The word had a hollow ring. But then, Seth as a long-term prospect didn’t look good, anyway. This could be a big step in the healing process for both of them. It would put another man between her and her bitter memories of Stephen. And it would show Seth that he was ready to start dating again. Swallowing the quiver of nervousness she nodded. “I agree. Provided I approve of the babysitter, you’ve got yourself a deal. One weekend away. No strings attached.”
“I’ll be counting the hours till next Friday.”
“Come on in the kitchen. The kids will wonder what we’re doing out here.”
“They’re smarter than you think. You already know about Jessie. Matthew asked if I’m your boyfriend.”
Her mouth fell open. “Matthew? He talked to you instead of me? What did you say?”
“I said I’m working on it.”
“Oh… Was he upset?”
“Seemed happy about it.”
“Huh.”
They entered the kitchen, Melissa with her cheeks feeling undeniably warm.
“Hi, kids,” Seth said. Hugging all three girls who’d come running at once, and making a point of leaning over to Matthew, who stood a pace or two back, to ruffle his hair.
What a nice family they made, Melissa thought as she dished up dinner. Laura proudly carried the salad she’d helped make into the dining room, followed by Jessie with the fruit punch, Matthew with the bread steaming in its basket and Alice, who refused to be left out, wobbling behind, her eyes glued to a tottering jug of salad dressing with fierce concentration.
It wasn’t the first dinner they’d eaten together at her place, her family and the O’Reillys. But it was without a doubt one she would always remember.
It was the way Seth looked at her. Every glance held a secret, taunting message. Even though the conversation at the table was general, and mainly child-centered, there was a second conversation going on. It was unspoken. As subtle as the accidental-on-purpose brushing of his fingers against hers when he asked Melissa to pass him the salad. As subtle as an innuendo.
“Delicious,” he pronounced, and the way he rolled his tongue over the word had Melissa suspecting he wasn’t talking about her food at all. When she peeked up at him, he winked, and she swallowed so hard she choked.
“You okay, Mom?”
“Just choked on a crumb,” she gasped, gulping fruit punch. But an ocean of fruit punch wouldn’t be enough to quench the desire the man across from her had kindled.
He didn’t try to play footsie with her, or any other obvious action that she could have shut down with a sharp kick. He was so subtle, she wasn’t even sure if she was imagining the undercurrent. And yet, when she looked at him, she was convinced he was deliberately teasing her.
Resolutely, she kept her gaze on the children or her plate. That worked for about five minutes until Seth’s voice asked her oh so politely if she’d pass the bread.
“Jessie, pass your father the bread. You’re closer,” she retaliated, and got nothing but a sly grin for her pains. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was enjoying every minute.
Come to think of it, so was she.
She didn’t even get a kiss when he left. Not that it would have been appropriate in front of the children, of course. All she got was a slow, teasing, hidden pat on the derriere as he headed out the door. “Thanks for a terrific dinner. We’ll have to do it again, when we have more time.” Like an entire weekend, his eyes telegraphed.
When her children were in bed, she toyed with her garden design for a while, but it was hopeless. She could hardly hold a pencil straight she was so keyed up. She’d agreed to a weekend of sex with a man she’d already decided she wouldn’t marry.
A weekend spent with a man not her husband or even officially her boyfriend might not shock many people, but it shocked Melissa. It teased of the forbidden. It was a nice change to think of herself as a woman a man desired enough to spirit away for an entire weekend. It was better than dumped ex-wife, struggling single mom and the other epithets she could come up with.
She abandoned her design work and ran lightly up the stairs to her bedroom. In the back of her closet was a cream and gold box. In it was a nightgown she’d bought a few years ago, shortly after reading an article in a woman’s magazine entitled, “How to Rekindle the Fire in Your Marriage,” or something along those lines.
She’d discovered that Stephen had been kindling a lot of fires outside his marriage before she ever put the nightgown to the test. It had sat in the back of her closet, all but forgotten—kind of like her sex drive. Quickly, she stripped and slipped the gown over her head. Just the feel of the silk shimmering against her flesh made her feel voluptuous and sexy. It wasn’t all that revealing, being ankle length with a silk and lace bodice that hinted at cleavage rather than displayed it.
Feeling younger than she had in years, Melissa padded across the carpet into the bathroom where she could see herself in the full-length mirror, and flipped on the light.
Her first flush of excitement died when she studied her reflection more carefully. It seemed like her nipples had slipped down about half an inch since she’d bought the gown. And that was definitely a hint of tummy bulge glaring at her where the light hit the silk.
With a sinking heart she turned around and craned her head over her shoulder for a back view. To her critical eye it looked as though more than her breasts had sagged.
Maybe she should call the whole thing off.
And then she thought about the way Seth gazed at her, the way he made her feel. Anyway, he couldn’t reject her. She’d already rejected him. So she could just relax and have a good time.
Just relax. Have a good time.
Ten days. She had ten days to prepare. How fit, toned and perked could one woman get in ten measly days—without major surgery?
She didn’t have a moment to lose.
Delicately replacing the silk nightgown in the rustling tissue, she dug out an old pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, crept back downstairs and raided the DVD collection. Right at the back was a workout DVD designed by a bouncy starlet. Rarely viewed.
At the end of half an hour she wanted to kill the starlet.
Every muscle in her body trembled, and sweat trickled into her eyes. She tasted carpet fibers from when she’d collapsed, facedown, on her twelfth push-up. Only the vision of Seth seeing her in that gown (cause there was no way in hell he’d ever see her naked) kept her going.
“Five more, four more…feel the burn,” that chirpy voice urged her on.
Gasping and exhausted, she rolled off the floor after the longest hour of her life and struggled to the kitchen to drink a gallon or so of water.
Before dragging herself up to bed she made a note on her calendar. Workout Video. On every little square of the nine days leading up to next weekend.
HE COULDN’T STOP thinking about sex. It was kind of embarrassing to be as randy as a teenager at his age. But he no sooner had to glimpse Melissa, think about her, or even dream about her, than he was off in erotic fantasy.
He’d dreamed about her again last night. If his dreams had ratings, he wouldn’t be old enough to watch this one. He savored the wispy fragments of the dream as he shaved, wondered if the real Melissa would ever do that with her mouth.
“Daddy, we’re out of Dino Puffs.” Laura’s imperative tones coming from downstairs swept away the last of his dream.
“Eat the Corn Flakes.”
“I only like Dino Puffs.”
“All right. I’ll be down in a minute.” He wiped his face, stepped into the bedroom and rooted in his briefcase for his Day-Timer. Carefully wrote “Dino Puffs” on his daily to-do list.
So much for dreams.
Soon to be dreams no more, he reminded himself. He was still amazed Melissa had agreed so easily to spending the weekend with him. Maybe she was feeling as randy as he was. Lust spiked through him at the thought. It was Monday, his Day-Timer reminded him. Monday of the week that would lead to Friday, where he’d penciled D.W. across the calendar square. Like he’d forget. The dirty weekend was his top item of business for the week. He smiled at the mostly empty to-do list. There were plenty of things he planned to do starting Friday—and none of them would show up on any list.
He whistled while he hauled the last loaf of frozen bread out of the freezer and made toast, in such a good mood he pretended he didn’t notice that the radio wasn’t tuned to his news station but to some teeny bopper hip-hop garbage. He even found himself laughing when the girls jumped up from the table in unison, grabbed air mikes and mouthed along to “Born To Be Bravo,” milk mustaches and all.
The radio announcer voiced over the last bars of the song with some smarmy hype, and he stopped listening, scanning the newspaper business section while he chomped his own toast.
A twin shriek had him dropping the paper to watch as the girls fell over each other, lunging for the phone.
“Let me have it.”
“Got here first.”
“It’s speed-dial 2.”
“I know…. it’s ringing!”
“A-a-ah! Let me listen!”
They were both jumping up and down like identical demented pogo sticks.
“What the…”
“SHHH!” the pogo sticks hissed in unison.
“I can’t stand it. Do you think we were the sixth caller?”
“I don’t know. We’re on hold. But we got through.”
“I can’t stand it. Oh, my—”
He watched the eager flush change to abject disappointment. Laura pulled away and Jessie said, “Okay. Thanks, anyway,” into the phone before replacing the receiver.
“We were so-o-o close. Eighth. He said we were eighth.”
“What is going—”
“Shh!” Laura said again, and dashed to the radio to turn up the volume.
“Congratulations!” The DJ boomed across his kitchen. “You’re the sixth caller.”
Some girl, who could have been either of his daughters, screamed, “I can’t believe it! You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not,” the DJ promised her, and she screamed again.
“You and your three best friends will be going to see the Bravo Boys in concert when the Bravo World tour hits Seattle next month.”
“I can’t believe we were so close,” Jessie wailed.
“And that’s not all. Our very special prize package includes a backstage visit with the boys and an autographed CD.”
More screaming from the radio. More groaning from the twins. Seth was getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and his good mood was ebbing. “What was that all about?”
“The Bravo Boys concert. You can win tickets from the radio,” Laura informed him.
“I figured that part out. The bit I don’t get is what you two would do with tickets.” He kept his voice carefully neutral.
A desperately anxious, pleading expression suffused both faces. “Please, Daddy. Please, can we go? If we win the tickets, it won’t cost a thing.”
“You girls are ten. Do you seriously think I’d let you go to a rock concert at ten years old?”
“But Daddy, it’s the Bravo Boys.”
“Maybe when they grow up to be the Bravo Men, you’ll be old enough to go. Finish your breakfast or we’ll be late.”
“Janet Suche’s mother’s letting her go.”
Deliberately, he switched the radio back to his news station. Although he could have saved himself the effort. The world could have ended and he wouldn’t have heard a thing over the commotion in the kitchen. Cajoling turned to pleading turned to shouting, until he finally snapped, “Not one more word. Go upstairs and brush your teeth.”
“I bet Mom would have let us go,” Laura sobbed as she stomped out of the kitchen.